Dear John
by Addster
Summary: They're hard to write, even for ninja.


**Holy moly, wow it has been a loooong time! **

* * *

As heavily affiliated with the snake as he was, Orochimaru was one of the most trustworthy people Tsunade knew. That was why, as he unlocked her door, she had given him a key to her small apartment.

Orochimaru walked in languidly, groceries in one arm, into Tsunade's mudroom and slipped out of his shoes. He soundlessly walked into the main living room and over to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter. He began to put things away when he heard a long, tired sigh sound from the master bedroom down the hall. From experience, he knew exactly what that meant and filled a glass with water, fished for the bottle of vitamins, and walked down the hall.

Tsunade sat at her desk, head in her hand as she twirled a pen in the other. Her hair was down from its usual pigtails and lacked the golden luster many younger shinobi had drooled over. A blanket was draped over her shoulders and covered her entirely as it touched the floor. Orochimaru walked in and unceremoniously placed the glass and vitamin bottle on the desk next to her.

"Thank you." She mumbled as he stepped behind her and read over her shoulder.

"You haven't gotten very far since I left," he rasped as his golden eyes reread the same line she had been agonizing over since he arrived earlier that morning. Her request had come as a bit of a surprise for Orochimaru, since he knew she was incredibly too proud to ask for help, especially his. Intrigued, he trekked through the frosty November weather and over to Tsunade's apartment, where he would discover he would have to serve as editor in chief.

"It's not as easy as I thought it would be."

Tsunade shifted in her chair, rubbing her lower back and neck. She had always hated writing letters, especially ones that carried some importance to them. She had never appreciated the weight of a hand written letter, even after the many long speeches her grandfather had given her about the importance and eloquence hand written letters provided, and how that was how he had kept the village afloat, and some other long winded reasons she had long forgotten. But now, as her eyes glazed over after reading the same line over and over, the pen began to feel heavier in her hand.

It wasn't working.

Violently, she crumpled the paper and threw it in the bin with the other failed attempts. She reached for the vitamin bottle and opened it. Orochimaru watched her carefully and noticed the way her hands trembled with the bottle.

"How many of those do you have to take?"

She tossed one in her mouth and took a drink.

"One a day."

He nodded and placed a fresh sheet of paper in front of her.

That was his job.

She had told him he needed to be relentless with her today; she had practically begged him to keep shoving paper down her throat until she finished. When he had first arrived, she had answered the door with a firm look of resolution on her face.

"I need you to help me."

He nodded.

"I am going to whine, complain, and try to quit, and I need you to keep me from abandoning this thing."

She took him by the arm and walked him to her bedroom.

"No matter what happens, or what I say, I have to write this letter."

The two locked eyes and Orochimaru nodded, resigned to this indentured servitude for the day, and sat on her bed. He knew exactly what the letter was going to say, due to the fact Tsunade had been wrestling with the issue since the two of them returned from Amegakure; without Jiraiya.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Orochimaru asked as he took her bare desk into account. Lately, Tsunade was never seen without some kind of small snack within her vicinity and now there was nothing in sight. Orochimaru was never a man to worry, but considering the circumstances he did gnaw on the absence.

"No, I have to go shopping."

She took her chair and grabbed a pen, and then stared readily at the blank paper before her.

"Ok," she started with resolve in her voice. "Here we go."

Orochimaru sat at the foot of the bed and watched as Tsunade began to write. He listened absently to the scratch of the pen on the paper, and the gentle in and out of her breathing. She stopped suddenly, leaned back to reread, and crumpled the paper. Diligently, she started again.

This process repeated itself before Orochimaru's watchful eyes nearly four more times before Tsunade cursed under her breath as she shivered lightly. As frivolously as she gambled, Tsunade was strikingly sparing with household amenities. Even in frostbitten winter, she almost never turned on the heat, and today was no exception.

"This is bullshit."

Orochimaru rose from the bed and draped a blanket over her small frame. He walked out of the bedroom and in to the kitchen to examine the fridge. Sighing, he closed the fridge door and stepped in to his shoes.

"I'll do your shopping, give me a list."

When he returned, she hadn't moved from her spot, nor had a single word been added to the page.

Now, after he had placed a new sheet of paper before her, she grumbled and dropped her pen.

"No," she pushed her chair away from the desk. "No more, I'm tired."

He stopped her chair with his strong hand and looked her firmly in the eyes.

"I did not decide to spend my day babysitting you just to have you complain like a child."

Tsunade was silent as she glared at Orochimaru. At the moment, and in her condition, he had the physical upper hand on her. But that didn't stop her from feeling contempt rise in her throat like fire.

"I have to go to the bathroom, so unless you want me to pee on the floor like a dog, move your arm."

They held the glare for a moment longer before Orochimaru released his death grip on the back of the chair. With a bit of strain, Tsunade rose from the chair, gripping the blanket around her body and protruding stomach.

Orochimaru let out a long held breath as he watched Tsunade's petite body sway around her heavy belly. Ever since they were children, Tsunade had always thrived physically. She was always naturally stronger than the two boys by her side, and she had always been healthy. But ever since she had discovered her pregnancy, she seemed to physically wilt as her unborn child grew. Orochimaru figured it was more her emotional state effecting her than any physical problem.

He rose from the bed and followed after her out the threshold of her bedroom. As she broke off toward the bathroom, Orochimaru went to the kitchen and turned on the stove. He poured soup in to a pot and let it simmer.

His first day off in nearly a month and this is how he spends it.

But he wouldn't complain, because he knew Tsunade hated it as much as he did.

When she walked in to the kitchen, she had pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. He looked her over and returned to the stove. She came to the counter to the left of the stove and leaned heavily on it, sighing.

"All those good marks in diplomatic composition, and you can't even write a letter to that blundering idiot."

"Shut up." Tsunade grumbled as she let her head fall in to her hands. He was right, but she would never admit it. She had never felt so frustrated over something so simple, and it was driving her mad.

"What guarantee do I have that he'll even get it in the first place? He could be in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere."

"Now you're just making excuses."

"No. You saw me try! I tried, but it's probably all for nothing considering he probably won't get it. He's too busy playing with those children."

Orochimaru watched her lip quiver at the mention of the children Jiraiya had stayed behind to help. He was prepared to kill them, but Jiraiya, being the bureaucrat he was, insisted on brokering some peace. He watched later as Tsunade vomited her daily ration, mistaking it for jitters.

"Does it really matter if he knows?"

Tsunade raised her eyes. Orochimaru slowly stirred the soup as if nothing had happened.

"Are you saying I shouldn't tell him?" she looked at him in awe.

He shook his head as he looked for bowls.

"I'm just saying," he said as he pulled down two bowls from the cabinet. "There are many single mothers with children fathered by transient shinobi."

"There are certain things expected of me, and being an unwed single mother is not one of them. I can't just live with a child and no husband, my family name will be ruined."

"Say he died in the war."

There was the sting of tears in her eyes. Images of Dan flashed in her mind.

"That's not funny."

He smirked and poured soup in each bowl.

"I wasn't joking. If you're too scared to admit it to Jiraiya, then maybe you have no business being a mother."

Tsunade's anger roared inside her and she clenched her jaw.

"That's not fair." She cursed at herself for letting her voice crack. These emotional tidal waves hit her harder than she had ever imagined once the hormones started kicking in full blast. She couldn't keep looking at Orochimaru as he pushed a bowl in her direction. Her stomach lurched and instinctively she laid a hand on it. She rubbed her hand back and forth inattentively as small kicks fluttered across her stomach.

"I'm just being realistic with you."

"I know. I have to appreciate it for what it's worth."

They ate in silence before Tsunade asked for another bowl.

"What should I do?" As Orochimaru filled her bowl, he focused his eyes on the soup.

"You shouldn't keep it."

Tsunade didn't move.

"You're a high profile shinobi, a descendent of a power family, and there's a war going on. It would be a waste to stay here with a child on your breast when you could be saving lives in battle."

"Children are difficult, Tsunade, are you willing to give up everything for one night of stupid sex?"

She stared at her bowl, aimlessly rubbing her thumb along the rim.

"I was planning on keeping him."

"A boy?"

She nodded.

"I thought, you know, maybe if I had someone to take care of, it would help me get better. Nawaki is gone, Dan just died, and now I've got this baby that needs me." She looked up at Orochimaru with pleading eyes.

"Those feelings will pass when you're up all night with a colicky baby screaming in your ear."

Tsunade sighed.

"You don't even have a nursery ready."

"_I know!"_

Orochimaru went silent.

Feet fluttered against her stomach again, but she fought the urge to touch.

"I know."

* * *

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Jiraiya whined petulantly as his onyx eyes met Tsunade's hazel.

She pursed her lips and prepared to lie.

"I shouldn't be too long, I just want to get out and see some things. Look for new medicine."

"But you're going to miss my appointment to sensei! I'm getting a gennin team next week and I wanted you to be there." He said, a little hurt.

Tsunade knit her brow and turned away from Jiraiya, her teeth digging in to her bottom lip. Sarutobi had already informed her of the team Jiraiya had been assigned and she did not want to be anywhere near the three children that would no doubt consume Jiraiya's life. Again.

"I mean, I know you don't really like kids, but I really wanted you to meet them. There's one boy, he's a huge fan of your great-uncle's teleportation jutsu and really wanted to meet-,"

"Absolutely not."

Jiraiya's face dropped.

"I don't want anything to do with your snot-nosed brats. Just leave me alone, I have to pack."

Tsunade returned to her bags and waited for Jiraiya to leave her room. When he didn't move, she snapped her head around to meet his eyes.

"That boy has no business with my uncle's jutsu, and you let him know if he ever tries using it, that he'll end up in pieces from it. Those scrolls are Senju property, and if I hear he put his grubby little hands on it, I'll cut them off."

She turned away before she could watch Jiraiya huff and smile.

"Yes ma'am."

Before Tsunade officially left the village, she snuck in to the Hokage Tower where her teacher kept all the scrolls of the previous Hokage. She searched through the shelves until she found the one she was looking for. Her uncle's bold handwriting stained the blue paper of the scroll of his Flying Thunder God technique. She wrapped her hand around the scroll, but she couldn't pick it up. She clenched her hand tightly like a vice around the paper.

"Dammit."

She reached for a scrap of paper among the shelves and began writing.

_Young man, I understand you have an enormous desire to attain this jutsu, and as a descendent and beloved niece of the Second Hokage, I must inform you that there is no way in hell you will ever get it right, if you even live through the process at all. I don't care what that ridiculous sensei of yours says, you won't be able to do it; it is dependent on the genetic strength of a Senju. As a practitioner of this technique, I must inform you that the first time will be the most painful thing you will ever experience, and you will most likely die. Stop right here and don't even waste your time. It's not worth your life, boy._

Years later, she would hear murmurs of a young man that moved like a flash through battle, and she would laugh in exasperation and rub her temples. All those high marks in diplomatic composition and she still couldn't write a convincing letter.

* * *

**I hope time hasn't dulled my fierce writing muscles. ;)**


End file.
